“Well.” Liza stood before them, doing her best to feign a concernedexpression, but it was too late. Ava had already seen behind the mask, and she knew. “That’s not how I expected this day to go. I don’t have the words to express my disappointment.”
For the first time, Ava looked around at the others. Madison looked at the floor. Vienna gave her a small smile. Maia glared in Regan’s direction. Paige looked at Regan, too, and just shook her head in slow disapproval.
They thought Regan was guilty.
Liza turned and left without another word, which was new. She probably needs to go have a laugh and doesn’t want to do it in front of us.
Ava hurried across the aisle and reached for Regan, who flinched away. “Regan, I am so sorry,” she said on a whisper. “I had no idea—”
But when Regan finally looked up at her, there was fire in her eyes. Anger. Rage. “How could you?” Her eyes flashed, and her hands balled into fists. “How could you do that to me?”
“I didn’t—”
“I trusted you, and you know what? IknewI shouldn’t. Iknewit.” The words were filled with venom and pain. “Iknewyou were too good to be true.” She shoved past Ava and hurried out of the room, not looking at the others, who were all doing a terrible of job of acting like they hadn’t been eavesdropping.
“It wasn’t her,” Ava said to the other four. Her voice was quiet, and a wave of shame rolled through her. “She didn’t steal my idea. I stole hers.”
Madison gasped, then covered her mouth with her hand.
“Not intentionally,” Ava clarified. “But I think Becca did.”
They had likely all been assistants or sous chefs at some point, so the skepticism was clear. Sous chefs caught the brunt of the rage of head chefs constantly. And while they were generally not blamed for mistakes publicly, they were often verbally pummeled in the privacy of the kitchen.
“I know. I know,” Ava said, shaking her head. There was a beat, and then the others started to gather their things. Distancing themselves? Maybe. Ava couldn’t blame them. There was still a hundred grand up for grabs, and who wanted to get caught in the turmoil of a cheating scandal? She braced her hands on her counter and wanted to laugh. This wasn’t culinary school or a reality TV show. It was a simple retreat. Forlearninga craft. She hadn’t come there to compete with others. She’d come to improve her own skills. But Liza Bennett-Schmidt had turned it all into something quite a bit different while they weren’t paying attention.
When she glanced up from her counter, everybody was gone. She ran her tongue around inside her cheek. “Okay then,” she said on a sigh and gathered up her own stuff. With one last glance around the kitchen, she said aloud, “I need to figure out how to make this right.”
Chapter Seventeen
The way the rest of them had looked at her.
Regan swallowed down the lump in her throat, beyond hurt that these people she’d been sharing space and meals with for the past six and a half weeks had instantly decided she was guilty of stealing somebody’s idea.
She had to give herself a mental shake on that, though, because if her project had come out first, would Liza have assumedAvahad stolen fromher? Probably. And the gang would be looking atAvathe way they’d looked at her.
“Fucking luck of the draw,” she muttered as she pulled out her suitcase.
And Ava. How could she do that? How could she steal something—from Regan of all people—and pass it off as her own? And then just stand there and let fucking Liza Bennett-Schmidt lambaste her in front of everybody without saying a word?
She was stuffing clothes into her suitcase when the door opened.
Fuck.
She did not want to deal with her right now. Or maybe ever again.
“Regan, listen, please. I—what are you doing?”
She couldn’t look at Ava. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to be reminded of how pretty she was or how she’d begun to find herself lost in those dark eyes or how she’d started to feel safe in those arms. She kept packing. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going home.”
“What? Why?” Regan shot her a look and Ava had the good sense to look chagrined. “I mean, can you let me explain? Please? Don’t go. I think I know what happened.”
Regan kept packing and said nothing, so Ava went on. Her words were urgent, her sentences were run-on, like she couldn’t take a breath. “Remember when Becca took my laptop up here for me yesterday I think you’d left your notes out, she saw them, and I don’t know took pictures? Then she came to me with the idea and we ran with it, worked on it together or so I thought but now, I think she might’ve had all of it in her head because of what she found of yours, and she kind of led me along…”
Regan had to take a breath. She had to count to five to keep herself from unloading like a cannon. She reached five and looked at Ava, finally. When she spoke, she did it slowly. “Seriously? That’s your play? Getting an underling in trouble? Again? I probably should’ve predicted that.”
The barb hit its mark. She could tell by the zap of pain that shot across Ava’s face. It didn’t make her feel good, though, and she returned her attention to her packing.
“Would you please just wait?” Ava’s voice had gone soft. Pleading. Like she knew Regan wasn’t buying her explanation.
